The office lights cast long, golden shadows across the glass walls as the city's dusk began to settle. Inside, Alexander Velmonte sat in his leather chair, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the screen before him—but he wasn't really seeing it. The glow of the monitor danced over his face, but his thoughts had drifted far from the numbers and lines of text.
He leaned back slowly, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The weight pressing against his chest wasn't work. It was her.
Emily Wards.
She had been under his radar for three weeks, quietly working in the research department, barely causing a ripple in the company's routines. But since the footage, since the glimpse of the intruder with pale green eyes, everything had started to shift. Her name lingered too long in conversations. Her presence carried a quiet edge he couldn't ignore.
But now… now it wasn't suspicion clouding his thoughts. It was something else entirely.
He didn't hear the soft knock on the door.
Didn't even notice when the handle turned.
It wasn't until a gentle voice broke through the silence that he stirred.
"Sir?"
His gaze refocused, sluggish and dazed. He blinked once, then twice, and slowly turned his chair toward the doorway.
She stood there.
Emily Wards.
The amber light of the setting sun filtered through the glass behind her, tracing golden highlights along the strands of her hair. She stood with a calm posture, one hand still on the door handle, the other loosely at her side. Her lips were slightly parted as if she had hesitated to speak again. Her eyes, those pale green eyes, searched his face for a response.
Something shifted inside him.
She wasn't speaking. Not moving. Just watching him watch her.
He took her in—truly took her in—for the first time.
Her face was soft but not delicate, symmetrical yet distinct. High cheekbones. A sharp jawline. Her nose tilted slightly to one side, giving her an imperfect beauty that felt… real. Her eyes—light, unusual, framed with thick lashes—were locked on his, and suddenly, he couldn't remember what he had been thinking before she entered.
He was staring.
And she noticed.
Emily cleared her throat. "Sir."
Still, he didn't answer. His body was present, but his mind seemed to have been pulled somewhere else.
So she spoke again, firmer this time. "Sir."
That snapped him out of it.
He turned his chair fully and narrowed his eyes.
"Did it not occur to you to knock before barging in?" he asked coldly, though his voice didn't carry as much bite as it usually did.
Emily blinked, unfazed. "I did knock. You didn't hear me, sir."
They were eye to eye now. The distance between them felt unnaturally small despite the large office space.
Alexander stood up slowly, his tall frame unfolding with quiet authority. He didn't break eye contact, and neither did she.
She didn't flinch. Didn't look away.
But she took a single step back as he began to walk around the desk.
The silence grew heavy.
Step by step, he closed the distance between them. Deliberate. Controlled. A predator with no intent—just instinct.
Emily stepped back again, slower this time, until her lower back brushed against the edge of the polished table behind her. There was nowhere else to go.
Alexander stopped in front of her.
His hands came up—not to touch her, but to rest on either side of the table, boxing her in without laying a finger. The closeness was suffocating.
But it wasn't anger she saw in his eyes.
Not this time.
He was lost again.
His eyes moved—slowly—from her brows to the delicate curve of her lips. The rise and fall of her breath. The freckle just under her left eye. He had never noticed that before.
She was… beautiful.
Not the forced, magazine-cover kind. But the kind that demanded attention without asking for it. The kind that drew you in and made you forget why you were watching in the first place.
"Sir," Emily said softly, uncertain now. "Please."
He didn't answer.
He was staring again, and his gaze had dropped—toward her waist. Toward the spot that had been haunting his mind ever since the break-in.
Was it her?
Could it be…?
The memory of the intruder's tattoo flashed through his mind—a white rose with purple petals, right at the waistline. He could still see it like a ghost behind his eyelids.
I have to know.
He moved without thinking.
His hand reached for her waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled her closer. Emily gasped.
Her hands shot up instinctively, grabbing the lapels of his suit. She was too stunned to speak, her breath catching as her face came close to his chest.
He was tall. She had never realized how tall until now, pressed against him, caged by his arms, heart pounding fast enough to drown her thoughts.
"Let go of me," she whispered, then louder, "Sir, what are you doing?!"
But Alexander didn't speak.
His fingers were already at the hem of her blouse.
Just a look. Just to know. I must see it.
"Stop!" she cried, panic in her voice now. "Leave me—what do you think you're doing?!"
The door slammed open.
"Alexander!"
Damian's voice rang like a gunshot across the room.
Everything halted.
Alexander froze, fingers still at the fabric. Emily was still pressed against him, but now her hands were pushing, trembling.
Behind Damian, a group of employees stood wide-eyed. Some were already recording with their phones. Others stood in stunned silence.
"What the hell is going on in here?!" Damian demanded, stepping inside with fear in his eyes.
Alexander released Emily.
She stumbled back, quickly fixing her blouse, her face flushed with rage and embarrassment.
"That's what you should've done a long time ago," she spat, trembling. "What a mad man." With both of them exiting the office and heading down the hall way.
The hallway was filling. People from upstairs had rushed down. Whispers turned to shouts. Phones kept recording. Then, someone shouted—
"Is that Alexander Velmonte?"
"It's him—he grabbed her!"
"Was it assault? Did anyone get the full video?"
Reporters were already pushing past security. Microphones up. Flashlights blinking.
"Alexander! Why did you touch that woman like that?"
"What really happened in your office?!"
"Do you deny putting your hands on your employee?!"
Alexander turned toward them slowly, jaw clenched, eyes wild.
He took a step toward a reporter—one hand slightly raised, the fury building in him dangerously.
But before he could lash out—
"Alexander."
A voice cut through the noise.
Andrew.
He stepped forward, straight between Alexander and the crowd, his back to the reporters, facing him directly. His face was calm, but his eyes were clear with warning.
"If you do this," Andrew said quietly, "you'll lose it all."
Alexander didn't move.
Andrew turned to face the room. Then Emily.
The air was still.
Andrew stood tall, but his throat was dry. The pressure was unbearable. Cameras were flashing, microphones shoved in his direction. Reporters shouting over one another. Employees whispering behind their phones.
"What happened?" one reporter yelled. "Was he assaulting her?"
Another followed, louder. "Is that what happens in Velmonte Technologies? Sexual harassment from the CEO?!"
Andrew's mind raced.
Think. Think fast.
He opened his mouth—but no words came out.
Sweat dotted his forehead as he looked toward the crowd, then at Emily, then at Alexander—who looked like he was ready to kill someone. Preferably him.
Then Andrew did the one thing he could do.
He lied.
"You mean… Emily?" he asked slowly, his voice uncertain.
The reporters leaned in.
"Yes! The woman he was holding! What is she to him?!"
Andrew exhaled. And spoke.
"She's his fiancée."
The entire room fell into a stunned silence.
Even the sound of someone's phone dropping to the floor seemed loud.
Alexander's head whipped toward him, his eyes blazing with silent fury. What the hell did you just say? his glare screamed.
Emily's eyes widened. "What—?"
Andrew continued quickly, forcing a nervous smile. "Yes. They've been engaged for over two months now. So I don't see what the fuss is about. I mean… come on. A little couple tension… romance. That's normal, right?"
A wave of murmurs passed through the office floor like a gust of wind.
"Is it true?"
"That explains a lot…"
"But she looked scared—"
One bold employee called out, "If they're engaged, then why did she look afraid? Almost like she was trying to get away?"
Reporters turned immediately. "Miss Emily! Miss Emily, is it true? Are you really the fiancée of Alexander Velmonte?"
Andrew's heart pounded in his chest. He looked at Emily, his expression pleading—Please. Please just go with it. His eyes were practically screaming save me.
Emily stood frozen for a heartbeat. Then she slowly turned to face the cameras, her jaw tight.
"Yes," she said, voice clear. "I'm his fiancée."
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Reporters pushed forward with more questions.
"How long has it been?"
"Was this a secret engagement?"
"Are you happy with him?"
"Mr. Alexander, why didn't you go public with this sooner?"
But Alexander didn't say a word.
He walked straight to Emily, grabbed her hand tightly, and dragged her back into the office. Andrew followed, shoving the door closed behind him.
It clicked shut with a loud snap.
And silence fell.
Soundproofed walls kept the noise outside. In here, the tension was suffocating.
Alexander let go of Emily's hand and turned slowly to Andrew, the fire in his eyes no longer contained.
"What the hell, Andrew?"
His voice was low and dangerous.
"Me?" He gestured toward Emily, disbelief dripping from his words. "Engaged to her? A nobody?"
Emily's face twisted in offense. "Excuse me?"
But he didn't even look at her.
Emily stepped forward. "I am not a nobody. And if you hadn't acted like an animal, none of this would've happened."
Alexander's jaw clenched. He turned back to Andrew.
"Is this what you want for me?" he asked, almost whispering. "To pretend I'm in love with her? Parade around the company like it's real?"
Andrew raised both hands. "Look, I didn't have a choice, okay? They saw you. They recorded you. They would've torn you apart in the media. This was the best option—the only option."
Alexander's chest rose and fell slowly, eyes blazing.
Andrew pushed on. "You made a mistake, Alexander. Own it. If you don't want this to explode, then congratulations—you and Emily are now publicly engaged."
He gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "And now I have to explain this entire mess to your parents. I'm sure they've already seen the headlines by now."
He turned toward the door. "Good luck," he muttered, and walked out.
Emily was quiet for a moment, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"Well," she said finally, "see you another time, Mr. Alexander. No—sorry, fiancé."
She left, shutting the door softly behind her.
Alexander stood there, staring at the space she had just occupied. Then, slowly, he sat down and let out a deep, sharp breath. His fingers ran through his hair, thoughts spiraling like wildfire.
Outside the office, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.
Emily stepped onto the office floor, and every head turned.
All eyes on her.
Sophia rushed over. "Emily!" she whispered, grabbing her arm. "Why didn't you tell me? Oh my God. That's why you're always weird when I bring him up! Because he's your man! Girl, I swear, I'm so sorry. I'll never joke about that again!"
Emily forced a small smile. "It's okay. No big deal."
She walked back to her desk with a calmness that wasn't real.
She sat, turned on her computer… and picked up her phone.
A single message.
It's more than I expected.
She hit send, exhaled, and leaned back.